


Of Silver, Of Gold

by Calenhad



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Faramir and Eomer omg yis pls, Lord of the Rings, M/M, Post-Lord of the Rings, goddamnit I'm going to finish this goddamn fic, sucky summary I know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6830005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calenhad/pseuds/Calenhad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set Post-Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.<br/>Aragorn has been coronated and peace is returning to the lands, all except Rohan that is. All Eowyn wants is for the two most important men in her life to be happy. A fic in which Eowyn is a master planner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _I've never read the books, therefore most of the things I write will have been taken or inspired by the movie or and wikipedia pages I've used for research. Keep in mind that this is also set after Return of the King and there may be some things I may yet change in the future.  
Read, Comment, Kudos. But mostly; Enjoy :)_

 

* * *

 

 

It was a glorious day for a coronation, the sun shone down upon the city of Minas Tirith, illuminating the White City. People gathered at the Citadel, a mass of bodies stretched out like an ocean, their attention turned towards their new King. Aragorn swore his oath and moved through the crowd, greeting his friends, when he came to a stop in front of his love, Arwen. The sight of their reunion made Faramir's heart fill with warmth, only to suddenly freeze with concern a moment later. Faramir grasped the hand of the woman beside him.   
  
  
Faramir had first met Éowyn in the Houses of Healing, struck down with a near fatal case of the Black Breath. While Aragorn had healed them both, Éowyn had grown ill in spirit. Faramir had learnt of her heartache, her homesickness and her yearning for love - the rejection of Aragorn's love still fresh. Faramir had trouble understanding how such a beautiful and kind woman had not yet found someone to return her love. He had begun to fret that his new found friend had already attached her heart to him. Had Faramir found the fairer sex to his liking, he believed he would have returned her feelings. However, before Faramir's fears could worsen, Éowyn had confessed that there was only friendship between them.   
  
  
Faramir felt Éowyn's had tighten around his own, a small but reassuring smile on her face. Their moment was ended when the newly anointed King bowed to his Hobbit friends, the ocean of people followed suit, every knight, noble and commoner.   
Once the coronation ceremony had ended, it was time for celebration. Music and laughter filled all seven levels of the city. As Aragorn had said;  _this day was for all men._  Those closest to the King, and a handful of nobles, were invited to the feast at Merethrond.   
  
  
Éowyn looped her arm through his, another smile on her face. It was good to see her smile. "Come, I believe its high time to introduce you to everyone."  
Faramir began to fret. He was an intelligent man who could hold a conversation, however the thought of meeting all of her heroic friends set his nerves on edge.   
  
  
"We've both been cooped up in the Houses, I wouldn't be surprised if people have forgotten our faces." Éowyn said with mirth in her voice. Faramir could not deny her.  
  
  
Thus, he was introduced to a great deal of people; most he had already met however had not yet been formally introduced to. Faramir finally met Merry, the Hobbit whom Éowyn held in the highest regard, and he also had the chance to speak to Pippin again – the Hobbit who had saved his life. Faramir admired the bond the two Hobbits shared, much like Boromir and himself. The Hobbits were humble when conversation turned to their acts of valor during the War of the Ring; they didn’t seem to fully realise they, Hobbits who lived under hills in holes, had as much courage as any Man, Elf or Dwarf. Conversation with the Hobbits was pleasant and light hearted. Faramir found himself laughing when Merry blushed at Éowyn’s praises.  
  
  
They moved on from one person to the other, noble to friend. Faramir was at the end of an inquisitive conversation with Gandalf when Éowyn approached the two men, taking Faramir by the arm again. “You’ve done so well my friend; there is just one more person I’d like you to meet.” She guided him through the crowd over to the other side of the room, where five men laughed merrily around a hearth.  
  
  
Faramir recognised the men as Rohirrim, and the one with his back to them, with lengthy golden hair, must be Éowyn’s brother; Éomer. Faramir had caught glimpses of the man whilst he was in the Houses of Healing. Éomer spent most of his time hovering around Éowyn’s unconscious form. He was ashamed to admit he was too intimidated by the man to approach him.  
Éowyn let go of his arm and went to her brother’s side, whispering something in his ear. She turned to Faramir, a joyful smile on her face, her brother turned a moment later.  
  
  
“Brother, this is my dear friend Faramir, and this is my brother, Éomer.”  
  
  
Faramir was in trouble; he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. It wasn’t like he’d never seen the man before, a handful of times before. However now that he’d seen the man front on, golden hair alight in the fire’s glow…he was in trouble.  
  
  
To avoid looking like a complete fool with his mouth agape, Faramir managed to kick himself into action.  
“Greetings, Marshall. I’ve heard much about you from your sister.” Faramir bowed, remembering that Éomer was now technically King of Rohan.  
  
  
Éomer grunted, he seemed guarded, his eyes were questioning. Faramir could lose himself in those eyes.  
  
  
“Nothing too bad I’d hope. Wyn has too many stories I’d rather she not share.” This earned a laugh from Éowyn, making Éomer crack a glowing smile. Faramir could die from that smile. He laughed nervously before answering, “They were all good, I assure you.”  
  
  
Éomer simply nodded, his eyes boring into his. Faramir struggled not to squirm under his gaze.  
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain.” Éomer bowed to Faramir, despite it being completely unnecessary. The tension was palpable, fortunately Éowyn chose that moment to announce the time for feasting was nigh.  
  
  
Faramir was seated next to Éowyn, a few seats away from the King – and even fewer seats from Éomer.  
Whilst all eyes were either on the King on their plates, however every now and then Faramir’s eyes drifted towards Éomer. For the most part, he was discrete in doing so; only one person noticed.  
  
  
Now armed with this new piece of information Éowyn set to making a plan.

* * *

  
  
**A/N:**   _All I can imagine is Eowyn rubbing her little hands together in glee._  
  
 


	2. Chapter 2

The celebrations were to continue for the next few days. With one day already gone, Éowyn had to move fast and cautiously – for is she wanted her plan work, she must first plant the seed. She hoped that the seed would take before her and Éomer’s departure from Gondor. For now, she had this day planned.  
  
  
“Éomer, please, you must come and explore the City. When will we ever get the chance to see it again? We’ll be busy once we return home.”  
Éowyn was pleading with her brother, trying to convince him to leave the stables for a tour of the Great White City.  
“I’ve been stuck up inside the Houses of Healing for weeks and have seen little of the city.”  
  
  
Éomer grunted and continued brushing his horse, Firefoot.  
  
  
“Not to mention I’ve been deprived of your company, brother, dear.”  
  
  
Éomer’s hand stilled and Éowyn’s grin turned victorious. He sighed and set the brush down.  
“Am I correct in assuming Faramir will be joining us on this tour?”  
  
  
Éowyn paused before replying, “No, but would it be a problem is he was?”  
  
  
Éomer turned to his sister, his expression worrisome. “You’ve grown close, and in such a short amount of time.”  
  
  
Éowyn believes that she was far too optimistic to think that Éomer was jealous over Faramir already. She knew how much her brother worried about her. There was just the two of them now, and Éomer had learnt of her heartbreak over Aragorn. He’d sworn to her – after she made him – he would hold no grudges against the man and she knew he meant it.  
  
  
“Aye; he has been a tremendous help and a magnificent _friend_.” Éowyn made sure to emphasise the last word.  
  
  
Éomer finally caved and offered Éowyn his arm. “Very well then Wyn, where do we start?”  
  
  
Éowyn smiled. “Oh yes, someone offered to be our guide”.  
  
  
Éomer had a bad feeling about this.  


* * *

 

“I thought you said he wouldn’t be joining us!?” Éomer growled. She smiled and pet her brother’s arm.  
“You asked if he was joining us, which he technically isn’t. He is leading us on our tour.”  
  
  
Éomer’s face was thunderous.  
  
  
“Faramir offered to take me on a tour of the city and I couldn’t decline. I believe he is just as lonely as I am. Or was.”  
  
  
Éomer felt some remorse for thinking harshly of the man. He’d heard from his sister that Faramir had been keeping her company in his stead. Éomer supposed he was jealous of the man, Faramir being the one to lift his sister’s spirits instead of Éomer himself.  
Éomer had taken note of how they’d interacted with each other; Faramir tending to her every need. Indeed, they had become close friends.  
  
  
“I don’t like it, but very well sister; you’ll have your way – again.” Éowyn beamed up at her brother, but did not ignore his words. She knew Éomer was still upset over her dressing as a man and coming dangerous close to death from her injuries. She’d caused him much stress over the years, and yet he’d endured it. Her plan would reward both men.  
  
  
“Faramir has been through much in his life. He lost those dearest to him – some of those deaths are still very fresh. We are in no position to judge him, brother.”  
Éomer was surprised at how fiercely she defended Faramir. For now Éomer would respect his sister’s relationship with the man. He could only pray that Faramir wouldn’t take her away from him.  
  
  
Faramir had been in conversation with Aragorn when the two siblings approached, bowing their heads respectively.  
Éomer did not miss the concern in Faramir’s eyes, despite the look quickly disappearing upon seeing Éowyn. Aragorn greeted his friends and held a short conversation before departing for his first official meeting, leaving Faramir with the siblings.  
  
Faramir was unaware that Éowyn was bringing her brother, although he should have known better. During their time together Éowyn had spoken of her brother a number of times. She’d told him stories of a young Éomer and his exploits and pranks he’s sometimes pull on Éowyn. Faramir admired these stories as much as they’d saddened him – making him yearn for more time with his own brother.  
  
  
Faramir hesitated at Éomer’s stormy expression. “Greetings friends, I trust all is well?”  
“Yes we’re well enough, thank you Faramir. We’re both very eager for your tour." Éowyn answered.  
  
  
“Well, where would you prefer to start?”  
  
  
Éomer had remained silent during the conversation, much to her behest. Éowyn subtly elbowed Éomer in the ribs. He looked down at his sister who simply smiled on at Faramir. He looked to Faramir who waited expectantly.  
  
  
“Uh, perhaps we should work our way down, to the markets. I hear merchants from all over have come for the celebrations. Perhaps we might see something we like in the markets, or souvenirs from our time here in Minas Tirith.” Éowyn was surprised that her brother came up with such a suggestion. Faramir was startled that the man had decided to say more than a few words to him, his voice gruff.  
  
  
“That a fine idea Éomer. Let’s start with this level then.”  


* * *

  
  
Faramir led the siblings around the levels of Minas Tirith, showing them the Citadel and the White Tree, down to the gardens down on the fourth level. They listened on intently, taking in his every word, from the history of the city to random and useless tidbits of facts.  
  
  
Eventually they reached the market stalls in the lower levels. There were people everywhere, colourful tapestries were hung about and jewels twinkled in the sunlight. Éomer excused himself to go look for tack and weaponry.

  
  
“Perhaps you would like to join Éomer? I’m afraid I’ll be looking over dresses and jewelry.” Éowyn offered, hopeful.  
  
  
Faramir hesitated. He had to admit the prospect of dresses and jewelry weren’t thrilling, he didn’t have the courage to go with Éomer. The man’s blatant attractiveness and clear dislike for Faramir were too much. He felt like a coward, letting a simple man frighten him so. He’d been in a war and almost died for mercy’s sake! Faramir admitted defeat, for now.  
  
  
“I’ve no need for any equipment at this time. Besides, I’m not sure your brother would appreciate my company.” That much was true, Faramir thought.  
  
  
Éowyn had paused at one of the stalls selling an array of colourful dresses, her hands coming to a rest on one a lovely shade of green.  
“My brother had been through much and is slow to trust.” Éowyn said quietly.  
  
  
Faramir feared that he’d offended her. “I apologise if I’ve caused any offence. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He could kick himself.  
  
  
Éowyn ran her hands over another dress beside the green one, this dress was white.  
  
  
“There is no need to apologise Faramir. In fact, it is Éomer who should be the one begging for your forgiveness. He has treated you quite indifferently, and for that there is not excuse.” Éowyn was frustrated with Éomer; how dare he disrupt her plan.  
  
  
“I’m the only family he has left, and thus he has grown even more protective over me. In time, he should come around and see what a wonderful person you are.” Éowyn continued to admire the two dresses, not quite meeting Faramir’s eye.  
Perhaps this may just work in her favour after all; she grinned wickedly to herself.  
  
  
Faramir nodded, unsure of how to respond. “Green suits you, my Lady. As does white, as fair as you, Éowyn.” He offered. Éowyn blushed at the compliment and purchases the two dresses before moving on to the next stall.  


* * *

  
  
Éomer rejoinder them sometimes later, empty handed. Much unlike Faramir who dutifully carried Éowyn’s purchases.  
  
  
“Did you not find anything to your liking, brother?”  
  
  
Something had caught Éomer’s eye and he hadn’t heard Éowyn. She went to the stall where her brother was to see what had his attention so focused.  
Éomer was holding a cuff bracelet in his hands. The band was twisted silver and gold, entwined together. At either end of the bracelet were two horses, rearing up on their hind legs and facing each other – one was black and one was white. It was a beautiful piece.  
  
  
“What a fascinating bracelet Éomer. It would suit you well.” Éowyn pulled her purse out to pay the merchant when Éomer set the bracelet back down.  
  
  
“I’ve no need for any such jewelry.” Éomer looked at his sister, noticing Faramir close behind her.  
  
  
“Éomer, you were the one who suggested we buy something to commemorate our time here, were you not?” She pointed out.  
  
  
“I have already bought a new tack set for Firefoot and took it to the stables.” He supplied.  
  
  
Éowyn wasn’t having it. “That is not exactly a souvenir, Éomer. You should buy something for yourself.” She argued.  
  
  
“I don’t need it Wyn.” He grumbled, his frustration quickly rising.  
  
  
“You may not need it but you do want it. You were so busy admiring it you didn’t even notice Faramir and I were here.” Éowyn huffed, her hands on her hips.  
  
  
Éomer looked to Faramir. Oh, he’d known he was there.  
  
  
Éomer threw his hands up and walked off, shaking his head all the while.  
  
  
  
“Stubborn fool,” Éowyn sighed “I apologise for our bickering, Faramir.” She smiled at her dear friend.  
  
He was glad that she seemed to be smiling more as of late, despite arguing with her brother just now.  
“No need, I’m quite used to the squabbling of siblings.” He returned her smile, Boromir’s face flickering through his mind. “Just as long as you have had a good time.” He said.  
  
  
“Yes my friend, it has been a welcome change. Thank you for this day Faramir.”  
  
  
Faramir and Éowyn wandered through the market a while longer, Éowyn buying a beautiful sapphire necklace. Faramir escorted Éowyn up to her room when they saw the sun had begun to set. He helped put her purchases away and bid her a good evening.  
  
  
  
  
  
Later that said evening, whilst people were feasting or resting, a particular someone slipped from their room.  
  
  
This particular someone made their way down the levels of Minas Tirith expertly, unnoticed by all.  
  
  
This particular someone knocked on a particular merchants door and an exchange was made.  
  
  
This particular someone quickly made their way back up to their room and took a seat beside the fire, turning the object over in their hands and wondering if perhaps they’d made a mistake.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Sorry about the long ass links.   
  
Kinda what I imagine Éomer's cuff bracelet to look like:  
<http://www.aliexpress.com/item/Fashion-women-Twisted-Silver-Gold-Cable-Bracelet-316L-Stainless-Steel-Twist-Cable-Wire-Bracelet-Pulseira-Bangle/32392943204.html>  
<http://www.alibaba.com/product-detail/Wholesale-Custom-Polished-gold-Ball-Cap_60198005690.html>[  
](http://www.alibaba.com/product-detail/Wholesale-Custom-Polished-gold-Ball-Cap_60198005690.html)  
  
And Eowyn's necklace:  
<https://www.etsy.com/au/listing/118560963/sapphire-victorian-necklace-celtic?ref=market>[  
  
  
](https://www.etsy.com/au/listing/118560963/sapphire-victorian-necklace-celtic?ref=market)Eowyn's green dress:  
[http://www.polyvore.com/medieval_dress/thing?context_id=2304452&context_type=lookbook&id=40633922](http://www.polyvore.com/medieval_dress/thing?context_id=2304452&context_type=lookbook&id=40633922)  


Eowyn's white dress:  
[http://www.polyvore.com/lotr_rivendell_medieval_wedding_dress/thing?context_id=3692370&context_type=lookbook&id=21272561](http://www.polyvore.com/lotr_rivendell_medieval_wedding_dress/thing?context_id=3692370&context_type=lookbook&id=21272561)

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _Woo. Another one. I hope to keep this up. Kudos, comment, share. But mostly: enjoy :)_   
  


* * *

  
  
Éomer decided to have breakfast with Éowyn to make amends for his behaviour the previous evening. When he arrived Éowyn was already seated, wearing a green dress.  
“The colour compliments you, sister.” Éowyn smiled at her brother in thanks, his heart softening.   
He sat and helped himself to ham and eggs, scarfing down his food while he noticed Éowyn ate little. He set his fork down and swallowed his mouthful.  
  
  
“I apologise for behaving so childishly last evening.” Éowyn looked to her brother, his head bent. It was rare that Éomer ever had to apologise for anything these days. Being Marshal of the Mark had kept his head relatively cool and rational; he thought before he spoke. Acting like a child was usually only ever reserved for Éowyn.   
“I appreciate and accept your apology Éomer.” He looked to her this time, a small but relieved smile on his face. He rarely had much to smile about these days; another reason why she wished her plan to work. There was nothing that Éomer could do that Éowyn couldn’t forgive.  
  
  
“However I am not the only one you must apologise to.” She resumed pecking at her food, paying no mind to Éomer’s dropped jaw.   
  
  
“I’m supposed to apologise to Faramir too?” He asked, incredulous. Éowyn nodded.   
  
  
“Aye brother, not only for your behaviour last evening, but also for your treatment of him in general – you’ve hardly said a word to him. Why is it you treat him so indifferently?”  
Éomer had displeased his sister once again. He no longer had an appetite. Éomer was uncomfortable with confessing his issues with Faramir, but Éowyn always had her way; he chose to be honest with her.  
  
  
“I worry for you Wyn. You have lost so much and had your heart broken too many times for me to bear. I don’t want to lose you too.”  
That wasn’t the answer Éowyn had been expecting. Faramir was an attractive man; there was a subtle beauty about him. At first glance, you wouldn’t see more than a mouth, nose and eyes. However the longer you looked, the more alluring he became. Éowyn had noticed and she was sure that with time, Éomer would too.   
While neither man had outright admitted their preference for the same sex, there were small signs. For one, Éomer was her brother and she knew him better than anyone. There were many instances during their lives where she had noticed things that other had not. Such as her aversion to his friends paying visits women of the night when they were youths, which he played off as though it may give him a bad reputation. His friends thought nothing of it at the time. Éowyn was sure that in later years Éomer’s closest friends Hama and Elfhelm also knew.   
As for Faramir, it was perhaps she simply wished she saw something after she realised he would not return her affections. So she had thought if she could not make Faramir happy, perhaps Éomer could; that way she could make the two most important men in her life happy.   
She had started to believe that maybe she was right, and now she had to test it. Her plan was for their affection to grow naturally over time spent together. However she had not anticipated Éomer being so abrupt with Faramir – or Faramir’s reaction to meeting her brother. In the low light of the fire she had seen the blush on Faramir’s cheeks, his mouth also slightly agape. It seemed that perhaps her plan may just work, however she would not force a relationship between the two; she could only play the cards she gets.   
  
  
Éowyn stood from her seat and moved behind her brother, hugging his back to her.   
“You silly man, you’ve nothing to fear. Faramir and I are simply good friends and he has not, nor I think he could ever, break my heart; he is a gentleman, I find myself most comfortable with him.” Éomer placed his hand over hers, holding it close to his heart. He heaved a sigh.  
“I know that, I am simply being an irrational fool in my worried state. How may I make it up to you?” Éowyn had taken her seat again, Éomer’s face was sincere.  
  
  
On any other day Éowyn wouldn’t ask anything of him, but this could work in her favour.  
  
  
“I will ask two things of you, dear brother.” Éowyn’s voice was clear and certain. Éomer was sure he wasn’t going to like what came next.   
  
  
“Firstly, I have indeed grown close to Faramir. He was been vital in my recovery and always seeks to bring me joy; and now I wish to return the favour.” Éomer shifted in his seat, but otherwise remained silent.  
“This city holds many unpleasant memories for Faramir to bear as of late. The recent loss of his beloved brother had hurt him deeply, not that he speaks about him much. Thus, I would like to invite him back to Rohan with us.”  
  
  
That was not what Éomer had been expecting; sure, it was indeed better than Éowyn announcing that she wanted to stay in Minas Tirith with Faramir, it was still not what he was preparing himself to hear.  
  
  
“It is a little late for that isn’t it? We leave early tomorrow, there would be no time for him to have his affairs sorted, and he has many duties here. Not to mention we’ve many matters to sort out when we arrive back home; the King’s funeral for one, and the coronation of another.” Éomer trailed off after the last point. He still could not face the fact that in a very short time he would be crowned as King; he felt very unsure of himself.   
The funeral of Théoden King would be hard on all, mostly on both siblings whom had already lost so much.  
Éomer thought that perhaps it may be best for Éowyn to have Faramir by her side. The man seemed to help her in ways Éomer could not, especially seeing as Éomer was sure to be busy. He was jealous of that as he was jealous in many ways recently.   
He sighed in defeat. As always, Éowyn was going to have her way.   
  
  
“However I see your point, Wyn. Faramir may come with us, not that you need my permission.” Éowyn smiled triumphantly.  
  
  
“Thank you, brother. It is my hope that you both will become good friends.” Éomer gave her a tight smile.   
  
  
“Secondly, I would like for you to be the one to go to Faramir and invite him to Rohan, and while you’re at it you must apologise also.” Éomer was not surprised having already anticipated this. He sighed once more but agreed to her wished.   
  
  
Swallowing his pride and fears, he bid his sister a good day and set off to find the man of the hour.  
  


* * *

  
  
Faramir was walking with Gandalf about the Citadel when Éomer found him. Éowyn had told him that Gandalf was a type of mentor to Faramir, who eagerly listened to any and all stories and teachings Gandalf gave him.   
The White Wizard was the first to notice Éomer, giving him and nod and patting Faramir on the shoulder, leaving the two alone.   
  
  
Faramir was startled to see Éomer, and it showed on his face. He could clearly see Éomer had something to say; and whatever it was it made him uncomfortable.   
Neither man wanted to break the silent. Faramir was sure Éomer had come to confront him about his intentions with Éowyn. She had informed Faramir that she had spoken to Éomer about their friendship and how it was nothing more, however Éomer still thought otherwise.   
  
Éomer was sure he was going to be sick.  
  
  
Faramir caved first. “Perhaps we should go for a walk?” He suggested.  
“Yes that would be good.” Éomer hastily replied. He almost cringed at the awkwardness of the situation.   
  
  
The two walked in silence for some time, coming to a stop before the White Tree. Faramir looked up to the tree, seemingly taking great interest in its branches.   
Éomer took this time to study him; the length and shade of his hair, the line of his jaw, the veins on the backs of his hands, and when Faramir looked at him: the cool grey of his eyes.   
“You seem troubled, Faramir.” That was not what he had meant to say.  
Faramir was stunned, taking a moment for him to respond. “I have been contemplating leaving Gondor. Travel perhaps.” Faramir wasn’t sure why he’d told Éomer that.   
  
  
“Where would you go?” Éomer asked, his voice soft.  
  
  
“I’m not sure.” No one spoke for a few moments, but it an uncomfortable silence.   
  
  
“I would like to apologise for my inexcusable behaviour as of late, and towards you; and to also invite you to Rohan. With Éowyn and I. That is if you’d like, as you yourself just said – you would like to travel, and this would be an opportunity for –” Éomer realised he was rambling and his mouth snapped shut.  
  
  
Faramir felt lost; this man kept on surprising him. He appreciated the apology, realising it must have been hard for Éomer to do so. Faramir had also found Éomer’s rambling endearing, along with the way the tips of Éomer’s ears had started to turn red, his cheeks followed suit. Faramir thought that there wouldn’t be much in this world that could make Éomer blush, from embarrassment or otherwise. Before Faramir could reply, Éomer had spun on his heel and made a hasty retreat, Faramir watching his back as he went.  
  
  
Faramir’s head was left reeling. He was sure Éomer would drive him insane from frustration or pining. Or perhaps kill him from shock.  
Once recovered, Faramir set off to find Aragorn.    
  


* * *

 **A/N:**   _I feel this is a little short, and that maybe the next chapter may be a little long but we'll see. Completely unedited so excuse any mistakes._  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _I feel this is also another terribly long chapter and may contain many horrible errors, my bad. Its late, but I hope you all enjoy._  
  
  
Faramir waited most of the day to talk to Aragorn; after all, there were much more important things than Faramir’s own problems.  
Aragorn didn’t seem to think so. He finally spotted Faramir and excused himself from the company of two nobles.   
“Nonsense my friend, you will always have my ear. Aragorn grasped his shoulder, giving him a firm pat. He knew that Aragorn would take his Kingly duties seriously and put his subjects first, but he would always assure time for his friends; Faramir felt comforted knowing Gondor would be in good hands.   
  
  
“Come, let us walk. Tell me what troubles you.” Faramir smiled to himself, it would seem that most conversations were best had whilst walking, as of late.   
“I wish to continue the conversation we had earlier, as I’ve had some time to think.” Faramir said, looking to Aragorn. The conversation in reference was the one they’d been having before Éowyn and, surprisingly, Éomer had arrived for their tour – and judging by the expression on Aragorn’s face, he was still unsure of his friend’s decision.  
  
  
Aragorn paused and looked to his friend.   
“You are, and always shall be, welcome here Faramir – as Captain or otherwise,” he said, Faramir nodded, looking out over the city below, “it is your decision my friend, though I must warn you; there are still a great deal of threats remaining out there. With time I’m sure we’ll get them all, making it safer for travelers.” Faramir felt guilty; the newly anointed King had much on his mind. He had to make a decision.   
  
  
“Actually just recently,” _and rather unexpectedly,_ he thought, “I received an invitation to travel to Rohan and stay and Edoras.” It was news to Aragorn’s ears; Faramir must have come straight to him for advice.   
“It seems you and Éowyn have forged a close bond.” Aragorn said.   
Faramir had begun to tire of people assuming the friendship between he and Éowyn was something more, however it did ashamedly take him a moment to realise that Aragorn hadn’t meant it that way and he felt foolish for being so hot headed. It must be due to Éomer’s constant suspicion of the two.   
  
  
“I assume it was all Éowyn’s idea, however Éomer was the one to…formally invite me and insist it was a joint decision.”  
Aragorn noticed the irritation in Faramir’s voice, along with something else. It would seem that the King too had a plan.   
“And you have not yet accepted?” Faramir shook his head.  
  
  
“And why not? Éowyn adores you and Rohan is excellent this time of year.” Aragorn remarked.   
Faramir looked hesitant. “I fear her brother doesn’t feel the same,” Faramir said truthfully, a secretive smile on Aragorn’s face. Faramir flushed. “Not that he should adore me, no, just simply be more civil. He seems to continue believing there is something between Éowyn and I.” Faramir sighed. He would have accepted in a heartbeat had it been Éowyn.   
  
  
“Éomer is protective of his sister, which I understand is completely natural.” Aragorn hinted. Yes, it was understandable. Boromir had often shielded Faramir from much in his life.   
  
  
“You should go, take some time away from this city and relax after the war. If you still wish to turn over your land and titles afterwards, then so be it, but for now you should go see Éowyn. They are to leave early on the morrow and you haven’t much time to pack.”   
  


* * *

  
  
Faramir wrung his hands nervously. What if Éomer had stormed away to inform his sister that he wouldn’t allow Faramir to stay in Rohan? What if Éomer was there now, ready to confront him? He couldn’t fight the brother of his beloved friend, no matter how pigheaded the man could be.   
  
  
He was pacing outside Éowyn’s door, and had been doing so for the past half hour, when she flung open the door, a stern look on her face.   
  
  
“Stop overthinking and come in. I have scones.” Faramir couldn’t say no.   
  
  
He came in and sat with her at the table beside the fire, buttering a scone and added some jam and finished off with a generous dollop of cream. Éowyn smirked at his antics. Faramir shrugged; he had a serious sweet tooth. He briefly wondered if she were trying to bribe him into accepting with scone.   
  
  
They ate in silence for a while, Faramir chewing contentedly on his scone while Éowyn was about to burst.  
The very next time Faramir looked at her she let it out.   
“Oh please say you’ll come Faramir. I apologise for Éomer’s behaviour, once again,” she sighed, “he can be such a silly fool at times.” She mumbled. Faramir offered her a small smile and set the remainder of his scone down.   
“I wasn’t offended Éowyn, and I understand where he is coming from as a sibling.” He admitted. She seemed relieved.  
“He apologised to you?” She remained hopeful her brother wasn’t a complete bonehead.   
Faramir nodded.   
“Oh good, I’d hate for there to be any hard feelings. You’re both good men and I hope you’ll become close friends.” What appeared to Faramir to be an innocent smile, was actually one of much glee, be he still hesitated to give her an answer. And so she tried her hardest to look pleading and pouted ever so slightly.   
Faramir caved. He shook his head, if she tried, Éowyn could win over an entire Kingdom; no one could deny her.   
  
  
“I have already spoken to Aragorn who said all my affairs are to be taken care of in my absence.” However it seemed that Éowyn wanted to hear the words. Faramir sighed. “I would be delighted to come to Rohan with you.” He said finally.   
  
  
Éowyn beamed at her friend, leaving her chair to hug and reassure him.   
  
  
  
Neither of them saw Éomer through the gap in the door, his mouth turned up in a lopsided smile.   
  


* * *

  
  
The next morn, all luggage was loaded and the Prince and Princess of Rohan, along with their weary and anxious guest, set off back home to Edoras along with a convoy of soldiers and civilians. The Eored had set of days earlier to secure the route.   
  
  
Faramir had slept little the previous night, his nerves doing an excellent job at keeping him awake and alert. Aragorn had sent him a letter earlier to confirm all would be taken care of and should he desire to return, or travel on, his position would be secure. He had the mantle of Steward only briefly and was thankful he only had to keep his duties of Captain.   
  
  
That was only half of his worries. The other half was reserved for Éomer. He was nervous to be riding beside the man. Partially because he was unfathomably attractive and his brain turned to mush around him like some lovesick youth – and also because _he had no one else to talk to._ Éomer had decided to wedge himself between Faramir and Éowyn. Faramir glanced at Éowyn, who merely shrugged apologetically.   
  
  
She thought that perhaps this could work in her favour, surely they would make some progress in a day and a half.  
  
  
Faramir dreaded it.  
  
  
Éomer and Éowyn talked in intervals throughout most of the day, Éowyn making various attempts to include Faramir in their conversations – which only seemed to die off after doing so. She would had scolded Éomer for being rude, but figured she’d bothered him enough lately. She would just have to try harder.   
  
  
  
They all stopped for lunch of a grassy hill covered in wildflowers after Éowyn had suggested they do so. She decided to spare Faramir more awkwardness and sat beside him to eat, which drew Éomer’s attention.   
Once again, she ate little, but slightly more than usual which pleased Éomer. He watched as Éowyn plucked some of the flowers and sat them in her lap, fiddling with them. Éomer had tried to listen in on their conversation, not leaving much over the obnoxious cackling of Hama to his left, whom he shot a fiery look and took his leave from the group and went to his Faramir and his sister.   
  
  
Éowyn noticed her brother and looked up at him. “Oh good Éomer, could you please gather me some twigs.” Éomer frowned at her request, looking to Faramir for an answer, but the man looked away, his face flushing. Éomer hoped he wasn’t angry at his odd behaviour the previous day and obliged his sister’s wish.   
After gathering his sister some twigs, he deposited them into her lap and took a seat beside her. The two continued an earlier conversation which Éomer took little interest in, his eyes focused on the ranger.  
Faramir had accepted the invitation to come to Rohan, most likely for Éowyn’s sake. He could have gone anywhere, so why Rohan. Éomer couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was hiding something between the two, despite their insistence.    
  
  
Éomer was so deep in thought he hadn’t realised Éowyn had been seeking his attention. He blinked a few times before focusing on his sister.   
  
  
“I said, don’t you think it suits him? Flatters his natural beauty, I’d say. It took Éomer a moment to realise what she was talking about.  
  
  
The reason she’d asked him to gather twigs was because she had been making a flower crown…for Faramir. He remembered when they were younger Éowyn would make one for anyone and everyone. Even Théoden King had been seen sporting one.   
  
  
He looked to Faramir, whose cheeks were aflame from either the compliment or for the attention drawn to him – or both. The ‘crown’ was made up of pale pink and white flowers from the hill, with lengths of green grass and sprigs of yellowed straw, all supported by the twigs.   
  
  
Faramir didn’t have much say in the matter, originally thinking she had made it for herself. Faramir accepted her gift without hesitation, lest he offended her and incur Éomer’s wrath. Really, he was happy to wear it if Éowyn hadn’t asked Éomer if he thought him handsome; his cheeks were ablaze in seconds. He swore Éowyn had done it on purpose. A few painstakingly embarrassing seconds passed, Éomer’s eyes on him the whole time before Éomer simply hummed – whether it was in agreeance or indifference, Faramir wasn’t quite sure. He would hope for the former.  
  
  
Éowyn however, knew her brother better, and was very much pleased with his response. It was progress.   
  
  
A moment later Éomer stood announcing “I would like to cover as much ground as possible before we make camp.” He helped his sister up and escorted her, and Faramir, back to their mounts.  
  
  
Whilst on their way, she noticed many turned their heads to Faramir, who kept his head down. Éowyn hadn’t entertained the possibility of her friend facing any criticism. However before she could send a glare their way, their eyes widened and quickly resumed preparing.   
It appeared that Éomer had beaten her to it, his stare daring anyone to make a smart comment. She smiled and per her brother’s arm, proud of her brothers progress.  
  
  
In all honesty, Éomer wasn’t sure if he wanted to protect Éowyn’s workmanship from being mocked or Faramir’s pride from taking a blow – he settled for both.  
  
  
It was slightly after noon before they moved out. This time Faramir rode in the middle, closely guarded by the siblings.  
  


 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I've chosen to write this by hand first then type it up later, means I can reread it and add changes. There's probably more than a few errors in my typing too. Most of the lore I've made up, trying to keep it somewhat realistic so please don't hate me if I've gotten anything wrong, I watched the movies and did some research, but haven't read the books. Also when rereading some of this I realised it was way too long to be one chapter so I've split it up into Chapter 5 and Chapter 6. Enjoy.

_Kudos, comment, share.  
_ _But mostly: Enjoy :)_  
  
  
They had entered Rohan some time before dusk, now less than half a day’s ride to its city, Edoras.  
The Eored along with others had set their camp up a small distance from Faramir’s company consisting of both Éowyn and Éomer, the other two Marshals and a few high ranking nobles. There was a shortage of tents among the number of commoners and townsfolk who accompanied the convoy; Faramir had been quick to hand over his tent, however small it was, to shelter someone who needed it more. Éowyn would have given hers away also had Éomer not scolded her. The two argued briefly before Faramir intervened to remind her she was still recovering. She had quietened then, realising she would cause a great deal of grief for both Faramir and Éomer should she fall ill again. Éomer looked to him with, what Faramir assumed to be, gratitude. After the two made up they all sat to sup together, Éowyn watched the stars appear for a short time before she left her friend to retire – Éomer fussed over her once more before she confirmed she would be fine sleeping in a tent. Faramir knew she’d be happy to sleep under the stars with them, but knew she kept quiet for her brother’s sake.  
  
  
Faramir became somewhat uncomfortable without Éowyn as a buffer between him and her brother; specifically the odd glance his way that Faramir just now noticed.   
The conversation otherwise flowed freely around him, the deep rumble of Éomer’s voice occasionally reaching his ears, accompanied by the hearty, barking chortle of Hama and Elfhelm. Faramir found he like the two men, both of whom amused him in conversation and jests several times. He noted that they were close they were to Éomer, how they made him laugh and held long conversations with him. Faramir wondering what it would take for him make Éomer laugh as such.  
  
  
The stick Faramir had been using to draw aimlessly in the dirt with suddenly snapped, one end flying off into the grass; right next to Éomer’s boot. Embarrassment quickly filled his cheeks and he quickly threw the other offending end into the fire.  
After a few moments he decided to risk a peek at the group, hoping they hadn’t noticed. Hama and Elfhelm were standing, the former betting his full belly and yawned loudly while the latter announced it were high time he retire for the night. The two bickered over where best to set up their bedrolls for a time before they finally settled, Faramir smiling at their antics. He looked to Éomer whose gaze was settled firmly on him.  
  
  
 By the dying light of the fire, Éomer glowed; his warm, tanned skin turned bronze, and the thick length of hair Faramir so admired appear as though it were made from strands of woven gold – and the fire had set the amber flecks in Éomer’s eyes ablaze.  
  
  
Faramir’s heart fluttered ridiculously inside his chest. He was enraptured by Éomer, who shone as though he were a golden statue – one so beautifully carved and polished; Faramir knew such a prize could never be his. Even if Faramir were to keep all his titles he’d still be no match for a King, if said King were even attracted to the same sex – let alone to Faramir. He had little faith in himself in that regard; he’d receive a complement here and there, but had never been approached to court.   
Faramir briefly entertained the idea or marring Éowyn, should neither he nor Éowyn find a life partner. If not for romantic love, the something else albeit just as strong; surely Éomer couldn’t object to that.  
He quickly banished the thought, in case by some off chance miracle Éomer had developed the ability to read minds and skin him on the spot.  
  
  
His nerves were too rattled to open his mouth to the man, so he bid him goodnight by the way of a simple nod. Faramir removed his boots and overclothes, leaving him in a thin undershirt and breeches. He dared to look at the other man, whose gaze burned into his. Faramir glanced away, sliding into his bedroll and turning his back to the fire; his eyes wide and breath fast. When the moon had risen to its highest, his mind eventually slowed and he fell off into sleep.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Éomer was awake most of the night, watching the fire die, leaving behind glowing embers, then embers to fine ash. Once the light of the fire died out, the moonlight was free to shine down on the camp.   
Éomer’s breath caught in his throat.  
Faramir had rolled over in his sleep, his shirt coming agape and revealed smooth skin beneath. It wasn’t the sight of undress that had entirely caught his attention; it was the way the other man seemingly glowed in the moonlight. Faramir reflected the moon’s pale light, his skin ghostly white and his hair glinted as though it were strands of silver. Éomer wondered if Faramir’s eyes would shine in the light too, like beacons cutting though the dark of the night. He wished for Faramir to awake and look at him once more.  
  
  
Eventually the moon slunk down the sky and hid itself behind the tall pines and broke Éomer’s trance. As he readied for bed, he glanced at the man once more to make sure he was still there and did not disappear like the moon.  
Éomer slipped into sleep with the image of a glowing man burnt into his mind.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The company awoke with the sun and set out on the last leg of their journey to Edoras. During this time Faramir found himself admiring the sights Rohan had to offer. He noticed the closer they came to Edoras the colder it became, the Gondorian seemed to be the only one tugging his overcoat closer to him. He found himself growing nervous as they neared the city, fearing he may not be welcomed by some.  
  
  
Éowyn was aware of Faramir growing unease and wished to reach out to reassure him, but could not do so without drawing attention. She could only offer him a reassuring smile.   
  
  
Faramir realised why it was named the Golden Hall. From a distance, Medusled truly appear to be crafted from gold; the slabs of hay from which the roof was made from shone gold in the suns late light. Faramir likened the Hall to the glow of Éomer’s hair.  
They drew closer to the city, Faramir now noticing the large crowd gathered outside the gates. The people cheered for their warriors, family and their Prince and Princess. Blessings were called out and flora was tossed about. A few people noticed the Gondorian, as he was sure he stood out, and offered him a kind word or two.   
Faramir still felt somewhat unsettled in a strange place.  
  
  
Faramir hovered behind Éowyn, and Éomer, while they greeted many of their subjects and friends, settling some affairs before Éowyn turned to Faramir.  
“Come with me Faramir, I will show you to your room and get you settled.” She looped her arm through his.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Servants bustled around them, carrying trunks and line for the arrival of guests and trunks being delivered to rooms, he recognized one as it went by as his own.   
They kept chat to a minimal and soon came to stop by a heavy wooden door in a quiet part of the castle.  
“This is your room, as you saw your trunk has been delivered and fresh linens have been provided but should you need anything just ask one of the servants, or I.” Éowyn added as an afterthought.  “Some food shall be sent up soon. Eat that then get some rest before dinner tonight.” Faramir wasn’t going to argue, his nerves had been wearing him down as of late. He’d never been one for attention outside of the battlefield.   
“I shall be in my room down the hall, if you ever have need of me or would like some company. Éomer’s room is beside yours, I hope you don’t mind.” She said, and of course Faramir said nothing. Éowyn smiled at him sweetly and pecked him on the cheek. “I hope you enjoy it here, fear not, with time you’ll settle in. The people of Rohan are hardened but welcoming.” He squeezed her hand. “I shall return to take you to the hall later, get some rest.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Éowyn had rested enough and awoke an hour before dinner was to begin. She was going over plans in her head, trying to find a way she could seat Faramir next to Éomer, however things have changed. Her uncle was gone, meaning sooner or later Éomer would take his place. By tradition, the family would be seated to the left of the King – representing heart and blood – while to the right sat the Marshals of the Mark and other high ranking members – depicting leadership and protection. Guests could sit on whichever side was relevant to them.  
Éowyn knew Éomer would have Théoden’s chair swapped out for something simpler, without any meaning. Éomer’s seat was directly to the left of Théoden, with Éowyn beside him. Had things in gone differently, she would have gotten away with seating Faramir between her and Éomer. If Théoden were still alive, she believe he would have shared her opinion on the matter of Faramir and Éomer’s happiness. She imagined her uncle thinking up devious plans alongside her own. She hoped that by merely putting them in the same vicinity as each other, something natural would grow between the two, whether it be love and friendship, or just the latter.  
  
  
Éowyn had hardly noticed she’d spent the past hour inside her own head when a handmaiden knocked at her door.  
She dressed hastily and went to collect Faramir, her mind still churning over plans and ideas.  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't get used to frequent updates, sorry but I'm a level 80 procrastinator. There's probably tons of errors in this too. But enjoy.

_Kudos, Comment, Share  
But mostly: Enjoy :)  
_  
  
  
Faramir noted the aura of the hall was joyous, despite the circumstances. He and Éowyn had just entered the hall, pausing to converse with some of her friends. Faramir didn’t mind, keeping her arm securely looped through his. He knew coming home to Edoras would be hard for Éowyn, for when he looks around, behind all the merriment and celebrations, there was an underlying tone of loss and grief. Éowyn felt for her people, knowing and sharing in their sorrows. She could also see the pity in their eyes when they looked to her, having lost yet another family member.   
One of the main foundations of their friendship had been built around despair and heartbreak, helping one another cope with it. They were both in a similar familial situation, having lost so many. Many times Éowyn counted her blessings that she still had her brother, and tried her best to keep the sad expression out of her eyes when she looked to him – for he now had no one left, save for some distant cousins; he mourned the loss of his brother deeply. Boromir had been the more popular one, conversing with the nobles and being a role model for all. Faramir much preferred to stay in the shadows, much due to his father.  
  
  
He was pulled out of his inner thoughts when dinner was announced. People finished flooding into the hall and made towards their seats, Éowyn pulling him along towards the back of the hall, where a long table was centered. He noticed the marshals take their seat and wondered where the soon-to-be King was, when he received quite a fright. The man himself had suddenly appeared at his side.  
“Come, we cannot start the feast without the guest of honor.” Éomer stated, ushering the two towards their seats.  
Faramir was taken aback; ‘ _guest of honor’_? He looked to Éowyn for an explanation; however she too stared after her brother, mouth agape, as stunned as he was.  
  
  
Éowyn narrowed her eyes; _what was he up to?  
  
  
_ As the last of the people took their seats, Faramir hesitated; two seats remained. One next to Éomer, and the other beside that was next to a noble. As though it wasn’t enough of an honor to sit at the ‘Kings’ table, there Éomer stood, said offending chair pulled out and both chair and man awaiting Faramir. Surely Éomer couldn’t mean for him to sit beside him, a position surely reserved for his sister.  
  
  
Éowyn was delighted of course, but feared it may all be too much for her friend, the attention of the room securely on him. She hoped her brother wouldn’t draw any more attention to Faramir that night but still nudged her friend towards his seat and took her own, Faramir reluctantly setting himself down on her right.  
Éomer signaled the eating to start, a happy hum filling the room. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Faramir hesitantly pick up his utensils. Éowyn should have taught him the basics of Rohan etiquette and tradition. She leaned in slightly and murmured quietly to her friend.  
“We eat first, then thanks will be given and due to certain circumstances, an announcement will be made. After that the people are free to retire or stay on and drink.”  
  
  
Faramir nodded his head in thanks, fully aware of Éomer’s attention. He thought it best he kept the conversation minimal.   
Faramir didn’t have the stomach for food, so he merely picked at it, waiting to be released from the attention. His meal was truly cold by the time Éomer was prepared for his speech, him and his people having consumed quite the amount of food. He was pleased to see Éowyn too had eaten more than usual. She seemed more at ease now that she was at home.  
  
  
He felt the gentle nudge of Éowyn’s elbow, embarrassed to be caught drifting off again. Judging by the expressions around the room, the speech was solemn. He kept a respectful stature and shifted toward Éowyn, offering his hand secretly beneath the table. Éomer announced the funeral of the King would be held the next day; the King’s body was to be carried throughout Edoras and towards the private crypts of the family for a separate ceremony. During the speech, Éomer neglected any talk about his succession.  
  
  
“Throughout our hardships, we of Rohan have found ourselves allies in which we can rely on. These alliances, these _friendships_ , were not just formed out of necessity, but by compassion to help one another, determination, and perseverance; traits we and our allied share. Thus at the end of this horror we have faced so valiantly, we find ourselves with new friends and renewed and stronger alliances. With us today is one such friend.” Éomer extended his arm toward Faramir, offering up his hand.  
  
  
Oh dear, Éomer expected him to take it. Would he be offended if he didn’t, instead choosing to melt into a puddle of mortification on the floor? _Or perhaps a different type of puddle_ , he thought as he took the other man’s hand.  
  
  
“Captain of the Rangers and a son of Gondor, a _dear friend_ to Éowyn and I, and to all of Rohan. The Captain will stay in Rohan to witness the Rohan way of life, and perhaps showcase some Gondorian traditions in turn…” Faramir didn’t miss the emphasis Éomer put on ‘ _dear friend’_ , nor his other choice of words. He was keenly aware of the coarse, warm hand wrapped around his – and the man attached to it.  
The moment Éomer released his hand to voice a toast, Faramir fell back into his chair, receiving a concerned glance from Éowyn.  
  
  
His nerves were rattled from all the attention. He felt out of place, not knowing much of the city, its people or its customs. He was uncomfortable and unused to all the eyes on him – so many eyes throughout the hall.  
However it was Éomer’s sporadic behaviour which had stunned him the most. One moment it appeared Éomer may just be warming to Faramir’s presence – the next moment he would stick himself between his sister and Faramir; and then going on to declare their friendship in front of a large audience.   
It made Faramir’s head spin. He listened halfheartedly, his palms slick with sweat. Once the eyes had moved away from him and peopled took their leave, Faramir made his escape, excusing himself to his room.  
  
  
Éowyn watched as her friend hastily retreated and looked to her brother with a scalding glare. He shrugged and sipped at his ale. She sunk back into her chair, not caring for formality at that time. She would have to wait to scold her brother  
  


* * *

  
  
When the fired died down and the drunkards stumbled home, Éowyn went to her brother whom gave her his arm. The two siblings leisurely strolled to their rooms, Éowyn deviously taking the long way, passing by Faramir’s room; Éomer did not yet know she had given said room to Faramir.  
And so she had them pause a short distance from Faramir’s room when she scolded him.  
  
  
“It was inconsiderate of you to attract such attention to Faramir, brother.” She sighed. Éomer was taken aback.   
“Sorry?” He sputtered.  
“Yes, you should be. He is unused to such attention. You put him on display with no warning,” Éowyn certainly hadn’t expected her brother to do so, but nonetheless she could make it work, “dear Faramir’s nerves were set alight.” She said her brothers brow furrowing.   
  
  
“I meant no harm, only wishing to introduce him to Rohan, make him feel more…comfortable, if he’s to stay.” He defended himself. Once again his sister had leapt to Faramir’s defense. Could this man not speak for himself?  
“I understand you meant well Éomer, though perhaps you could show him the wonders of Rohan a little more privately” She suggested. Her brother looked skeptical.  
“You said so yourself; Faramir is to stay for a time, he’ll feel much more welcome if he knew a little more about Rohan,” she could see she had him cornered and decided to play on his pride, “besides, you’d be a poor host if you neglected you _guest of_ _honor_.” Éowyn smiled smugly.  
  
  
Éomer flushed and rose to the challenge. “Very well, I’ll take him on a personal tour, if he so desires. However we have other matters to attend first.” Their conversation died down, the absence of their uncle heavy in the air, his funeral arriving on the next sunrise.  
  
  
  
Faramir, whose nerves once again kept him wide awake, heard the siblings bid each other a goodnight and what he assumed was a hug and then went their separate ways.  
Inside his head was pure turmoil, his stomach kicking up a flurry of butterflies. Faramir both dreaded and eagerly awaited the days to come.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to keep anyone waiting, had some personal crisis' to attend to and has been a hectic few months. It is late as I finish writing this so excuse or feel free to point out any spelling mistakes, grammar errors or incorrect lore. There are some parts I have changed to suit my story, apologies if this has upset anyone.

_**A/N:** Kudos, Comment, Share.  
_ _But mostly: Enjoy :)_  
  
  
  
The morning was fresh and bright, though despite the fair weather, today was a solemn day. After a brief breakfast, the funeral procession of Théoden King would begin.   
Faramir ate in silence and dressed quickly, whilst keeping an ear out for Éowyn’s door. He sat on the edge of his bed, thinking of nothing in particular when he heard a knock on his door. Rising to his feet, he went to the door and was surprised to find Éomer on the other side. They stood in silence, for a moment, Faramir taking the time to admire Éomer’s featured. The lines of his face, the angle of his cheekbones and the scruff bear which surrounded his lush mouth. He also noticed the slight paleness to his skin and the darkened hollows beneath Éomer’s otherwise enchanting eyes. Faramir could not count these as flaws, however. They both started at the sound of Éowyn’s door, their attention turning to her.

  
  
She wore a pale blue gown, with daisies embroidered around the waist and neck, she had a thick navy cloak draped over her arm. She too, looked worn, and yet Faramir believed that not even the worst of grief and heartache could diminish her beauty. She moved to stand between the two, squeezing Faramir’s hand and took her brothers arm and they walked, leaning her head against Éomer’s shoulder. Faramir followed closely behind.

  
  
The day was long and filled with mourning. The streets of Edoras were lined with its citizens, awaiting to farewell their Kind. Théoden’s body was carried from the Hall of the Dead and through the heart of the city, where people laid down wreaths and flowers in the path of their King. Éowyn and Éomer followed in their uncles’ wake, Faramir watching as people approached the siblings to offer them words of comfort and praise.   
As they neared the edge of the city, where the burial crypts were, the crowds thinned out and it became prominent to Faramir just how overwrought Éowyn had become. He understood all too well the grief she felt, _they_ felt.

  
  
He stood behind her when they laid Théoden to his final resting place, alongside his family. Faramir spied the names of Éowyn and Éomer’s parents, along with Théoden’s wife and son. He watched as Éomer held his sister whilst she wept, noticing Éomer’s cheeks were also damp; however Faramir had no tears left to give. Other distant relatives and friends gathered to say their farewells. Sometime later, the people filtered out, leaving the three remaining.   
Faramir’s heart ached, wishing his own brother was here. Éomer turned to Faramir, as though he had heard his thoughts.

  
  
“This is a day for you too, Faramir, to honor your brother for his sacrifice; a chance to say goodbye.” Faramir hesitated when Éomer held his arm out, an invitation for an embrace. He gave in when he saw Éowyn’s tear stained face and moved into their embrace.  
Éowyn wrapped her arm around Faramir’s waist and let her head rest against his chest; He felt her shudder every now and then. He wondered if she could hear the thundering beat of his heart, having taken off on an unreasonable pace when Éomer settled his hand on the back of Faramir’s neck, however what had his heart truly thundering was the feel of Éomer’s lips in his hair; moving slightly as though he were whispering something – even if Éomer were screaming Faramir was certain he wouldn’t be able to hear him over the sound of his own heart. It felt inappropriate, given where they were, but Faramir couldn’t help but feel so alive.

 

  
  
When the tears had stopped and Faramir’s heart had settled, the trio made their way back to the city to feast in the hall; Faramir happily listening to the siblings sharing memories on the walk back.  
The feast was grand, filled with to capacity with people both sitting and standing around tabled piled high with food. Some were deep in solemn conversation while others laughed merrily; each had their own way of grieving, Faramir supposed. Many of them regaled the crowd with stories of their late King; Faramir could only smile when he saw the siblings laugh at tales of their uncle, some of which they had never heard before.   
The night wore on and Faramir took note of how weary Éowyn had grown.  
“If you would like to retire, my lady, I would be honored to escort you to your room.” He offered. She nodded and voiced her gratitude, eyes ringed with dark circles. As she stood, the people in the hall quietened and turned to their princess. When all was quiet, each and every one of them bowed their head, hands over their hearts. Éowyn gave her brother a kiss of his forehead, leaving the hall behind with her beloved friend.

  
  
“Thank you, Faramir, for being so thoughtful. Today has been long,” she told him as they walked leisurely though the halls, the noise of the hall now a distant hum.   
“I fear it wasn’t an entirely selfless motion,” Faramir admitted. Éowyn smiled.   
“You needn’t fear reprimand from anyone should you tire of socializing, Faramir,” she paused, looking to her friend, “you are our friend and our guest, I should have been more aware of your needs. I understand large gathering make you uncomfortable.”  
Faramir chuckled. “You make it sound like I’m some old misanthrope,” She smiled at this.  
“Never, though I could skin my brother for putting you at the center of attention.” She grumbled. Faramir found Éowyn to be quite adorable when she grumbled and pouted, he wondered how Éomer had survived the so many years of Éowyn’s pouting.

  
  
They’d reached Éowyn’s room, warm and prettily decorated, although Faramir knew behind all the glamour there would be a sword of dagger hidden somewhere in her room. His fierce friend had told him how she had often practiced what little she knew in the confines of her room.  
He wished her a good night’s rest.  
“Will you retire now, Faramir?” she asked him, suppressing a delicate yawn.  
Faramir thought for a moment; it had been a long day, full of mixed emotions, however he had many things on his mind and knew sleep would most likely elude him that night.   
“Perhaps some fresh air would do me some good,” he murmured.  
She looked at him thoughtfully, and then spoke, “At the end of this hall, then to the left, is a balcony which overlooks vast grasslands and the night sky. I’ve often admired the view.”

  
  
He nodded and left her to rest, turning down the hall where she told him to go, where he then found the balcony she’d mentioned. Faramir could see why his friend would spend much time there.   
The Kings quarters and the other private rooms were on the far left side of the castle, overlooking the gardens and the stables below that. Beyond those and the high walls surrounding the city lay a long stretch of land, it’s tall grass currently swayed in the cool night’s breeze. In the far distance the mountains appeared blue, tipped with glowing white caps of snow in the moons light.   
The stars spread across the inky sky like grains of sparkling sand or fine elven jewels. He’d once heard that stars were the souls of the dead, hence the reason why there were so many. Of course lore spoke of the stars being the essence of elves. He’d like to believe in both, and then perhaps it would mean his family were up there.  
He closed his eyes to the refreshing breeze, letting it wash over his face.

 

* * *

  
  
Éomer had remained in the hall to oversee his guests and townspeople. His lids had grown heavier with each person that left, and only when there were but a few drunkards left did he decide to retire. He had been on his way back to his room, rubbing his weary face and scraggy beard when he’d decided to reflect upon his thoughts; he knew just the place to do so.   
There lay a balcony near their private chambers which he and Éowyn both liked to escape to. On many occasions he and his sister had amassed a collection of blankets into a small nest on the balcony and curled up together, underneath the stars; there they would spend many hours sharing stories and other times they would simply enjoy each other’s company.

  
  
Éomer was amazed to find Faramir currently occupied the balcony and it appeared the other man did not hear him approach.  
Éomer studied Faramir from the doorway; Faramir stood with his hands gently resting on the balustrade, his face turned upward toward the sky, pale lids closed. Even though the moon was no longer at its fullest, it still cast Faramir in a beautiful unearthly glow.  
  
Éomer had stepped out onto the balcony, ready to approach the man. He opened his mouth to speak when Faramir interrupted him, making Éomer think Faramir had caught him spying. “I miss Boromir dearly,” Faramir breathed, barely audible. Éomer realised he had not yet been caught out and decided to quickly escape but Faramir had begun to speak again. “I hope he is reunited with you, wherever you both may be,”   
Éomer wondered who he could be talking about. “Even father, perhaps he has now found peace, though many say he would not pass on to a good afterlife,” Faramir’s voice had held a sad tone to it when talking about his brother, but now it turned sorrowful, “I only ever wished to do well by him, and to make him proud. I understand why he was so bitter and cruel, however try as a might, I could not hate him.” Faramir’s voiced caught, his breath rattling in his throat; Éomer wondered if he was crying.   
“I am appreciative of the time I had with him, and will cherish the memories of Boromir, as we have many,” Faramir’s voice trailed off and he remained quiet for a time.  
  
“You face fades from me with each year. I often wonder what you would look like now, though it is hard to imagine you any different than the way you were when you died. Forever youthful in my mind, ageless like the elves,” Faramir sighed. “and now Boromir too will remain youthful and there will come a time where I will surpass his age and yours, then fathers; I do not wish to complain, but how lonely an existence it will be.”   
  
Éomer knew it was wrong to eavesdrop and his curiosity to know more about the mysterious man had gotten the better of him, but now the one sided conversation had turned intensely private. Éomer backed away, making sure to leave undetected, however Faramir’s next words halted Éomer’s retreat.   
“I will not have any of my own children obviously, however I may come to adopt one in future, most likely raising the child myself, as I do not see the possibility of love,” Faramir stumbled over this word, “on my horizon, perhaps only a one sided love.”   
Faramir leaned against the balustrade, resting his chin on his hand. “There is one, whom my heart yearns for,” Faramir snorted “ and like a silly youth, my heart races and palms sweat. If Boromir were here he would surely tease me for it. Or perhaps it were better if he did not know, I could imagine Boromir forcing him to return my love. What misery that would be.”   
Faramir sighed in finality, rising from his position he straighten, once more turning to the stars. “Wherever fate may take me, I find comfort in knowing you’re there, and that one day, mother, we shall meet again.”   
  
Éomer took this as his cue to quickly dart back into the hall, diving into a tiny alcove set in between the end of the hall and balcony. Luckily he had worn simple black garbs to the feast, otherwise he would not have fit. He prayed Faramir had his eyes turned to the ground as he returned to his room, for should he find Éomer squished into an alcove, blushing like a madman, he knew he would have no excuse for his behaviour.   
His prayers were answered when Faramir walked past him, wiping at his eyes. Éomer was sorry the other man was grieving, realising only now that he had been talking to his mother. Éomer had only known the very basics about the Steward of Gondor and his family, mostly for political purposes, Éowyn had filled him on a little more; still much was unknown about the man.  
  
Éomer did not removed himself until well after he’d heard Faramir’s door shut, hoping that the other man was asleep or not at all suspicious of Éomer.   
He felt such guilt at having intruded on Faramir’s privacy but could not help but repeat the new information over in his head.  
Éomer was not hasty in his venture to his chambers and by the time he had reached his destination, he found his mind was a muddle with thoughts. Preparing himself and setting down in bed, Éomer found sleep evasive and decided to reflect more upon the softly spoken words.  
  


* * *

  
  
_**A/N:** I hope you all enjoyed, once again apologies for any mistakes, I was falling asleep as I typed this. Leave a comment down below, I love to read them :)_


	8. Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am a horrible person

Hello readers. Looking back I realise I haven't updated this fic in a year and oh my, I cannot believe it myself.  
Rest assured I have the story all figured out, I have a chapter to be typed up and such. 

I simply prefer to wait for inspiration to come to me. 2017 had been a bland year for me to say the least.

I am not abandoning this fic, don't worry. Your positive feedback nourishes my writers will.  
I cannot say when I'll have the next one typed up, but I'm still busy and writing other fics down on paper.

Bear with me, I am determined to finish this fic...

By the year 2020.

Cheers.  
-AG


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _I've been procrastinating so much; I feel terrible. I write it all up, but then have to type it, although it's easier I'm so lazy about it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Terribly sorry. Please let me know If there are any spelling or grammatical mistakes, its 1am and my eyes are going haywire._   
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“We should all go for a ride today, before the weather turns for good.” Éowyn announced while at breakfast with her brother, three days had passed since the funeral. The days had been slow and her plan had not progressed. Éomer had made himself scarce, throwing himself into his duties as a Marshal and the future King of Rohan, only reappearing to eat and sleep. She had passed the time playing chess with Faramir, or talking a walk around the gardens with him, admiring the natural beauty before it died come autumn; it was late summer in Rohan, and yet the Gondorian still wore thick robes.  
  
  
Éomer looked up from the report he was invested in, egg smeared on his chin. Éowyn laughed and handed him a cloth, which he took with gratitude and scrubbed at his beard, hoping nothing else was caught in it. He glanced back down at the report, the effects the war had on Edoras.  
“Who does ‘ _all_ ’ entitle, sister dear?” He asked; she smiled sweetly.   
“You and I, and Faramir of course,” she paused to gauge her brother’s reaction, “also Hama and Elfhelm might like to join us.” At this, Éomer was surprised. It had certainly seemed that at every opportunity Éowyn had. She pushed he and Faramir togeth-  
Éomer paused; no, she wouldn’t do such a thing, would she?  
Éowyn watched as Éomer’s eyes narrow, praying she hadn’t roused his suspicions.  
  
  
He sighed and rubbed his face. “Yes, a ride will be a welcome change.” He admitted.  
She grinned and stood, and brushed away and crumbs that may have collected on her clothes. “Excellent, I shall go fetch Hama and Elfhelm, I’m sure they’ll agree to come,” Éomer rolled his eyes; who had ever denied his sister? “You will go collect Faramir and meet us at the stabled when you’re both ready.”  
“ÉOWYN!” Éomer hadn’t the chance to voice his protests as his sister ducked out of the room, her mischievous laughter ringing down the hall. He slouched back down in his chair; a servant earlier had informed them that Faramir was not yet awake. Éowyn had suggested leaving their guest to lie in.   
Had she schemed this plan for the day? Or was it one part of a bigger whole?   
Éomer shook his head; for someone so sweet, she could inflict such evil.  
  
  
He waited for the servants to clean up their breakfast before he changed into some comfortable riding gear. He sighed as he closed the door and looked down the hall to Faramir’s room. He hesitantly approached the door and knocked quietly at first, but after no response he knocked more forcefully.  
A moment later the door was flung open and a half naked Faramir stood before him, face flushed and hair mussed.  
It was clear Faramir was half awake; otherwise he wouldn’t have opened the door wearing only a simple nightshirt on, barely covering his thighs.   
Éomer’s eyes drifted over Faramir’s exposed skin, from his legs and thighs to his open shirt exposing his chest.  
Éomer tore his eyes away before Faramir caught him staring. Éomer waited for a moment until Faramir blinked himself awake.    
He let a soft gasp escape when his eyes came to focus on Éomer.  
  
  
The door was promptly slammed in his face.  
Éomer let out a sharp laugh at the brief glance at the shocked expression he saw on Faramir’s face.  
Her heard his closet opened and drawers being opened; eventually the door reopened with a fully clothed Faramir behind it, his hair still a mess.  
“Your, uh,” Éomer motioned toward his hair.  
Faramir’s face flushed deeper and closed the door once again. A few heartbeats reemerged, his hair in order, breathless and undoubtedly embarrassed.   
  
  
Before the other man could apologise, Éomer informed him of the plans.  
“We’re to take a ride through the lands, before the weather turns. They others await us at the stables.”  
Faramir’s brow furrowed. “They?” He questioned; Éomer nodded.  
“Éowyn, Hama and Elfhelm.” He explained.  
“Oh.” Faramir replied. Before the silence could become awkward, Éomer suggested they stop by the kitchens to get some breakfast for Faramir.  
“Please, I wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting,” Faramir protested.  
“Nonsense, you must eat Faramir.” Éomer insisted as they descended the final steps into the warm kitchen.  
Faramir could only hope people assumed it was the sudden heat that brought color to his cheeks and not the use of his name in that gruff tone he so adored.  
  
  
Éomer insisted he eat his fill, including taking some extra in case they decided to stop somewhere along the way. Faramir finished his breakfast before they reached the stables, quietly following Éomer.  
  
  
Hama and Elfhelm were laughing with a group of men whom he did not recognize individually, but supposed them to be soldiers of Rohan, the Eored. He made his way to Éowyn, whom he found attending to a horse. When he grew closer, he found her stroking the horses muzzle and whispering soothingly to the steed.  
“She’s beautiful,” Faramir said, “what’s her name?” he asked.  
“Luthien.” Éomer’s voice spoke from behind them. Éowyn greeted her brother with a smile, Faramir nodded. “Enchantress, a beautiful name.” Faramir said.  
Curiosity passed over Éomer’s face, “You know Elvish?” Éomer questioned.  
“Some.” Faramir replied, watching as the other two men mounted their horses; a servant stood nearby, holding the reins of a magnificent dapple grey horse.   
Éomer took the reins and joined his fellow Marshalls.   
“Tis Firefoot, Éomer’s mount,” Éowyn explained as she took her seat on her own beautiful horse, which was a lovely shade of grey with a curly mane. “And this is Windfola.” She said admiringly, petting the horse’s neck.   
“Luthien will be your mount for today;” She motioned towards the gentle mare.   
Faramir hoisted himself up onto Luthien and the small company headed out. They made their way through the city, citizens gathering to wave at the highborn and their royalty.  
Once they’d passed the gates, they turned north.   
The three Marshals took point, talking among themselves, and as usual Faramir preferred to linger behind with Éowyn, whom told him many enchanting tales of the Riddermark.  
  
In the distance they’d covered the sun had risen and warmed the air somewhat, although Faramir had been warned the fair weather wouldn’t last – he shuddered at the thought of spending a winter here. By near noon they stopped at a small river, one that branched off from the main river Entwash, with slow moving water and thigh deep at its center.  
It was a pleasant place, it’s banks lined with lush grass and small, colourful flowers.  
Hama and Elfhelm had blessed Éomer’s foresight to bring food, and plenty of it. The man in question stripped off the thin jacket he wore and placed it on the damp grass for his sister, whom thanked him with a warm smile.  
Faramir ate in relative silence, choosing instead to take in the scenery around him; he admired the healthy green of their surroundings, for so far he’d mostly seen ruin and destruction left behind by the war.  
  
_It is a place I could live in peace, surrounded by pockets of beauty found throughout this land,_ Faramir concluded.   
He watched the horses graze leisurely, untethered and sedate, and the birds dart from tree to tree, frogs bellowing and insects chirping.  
He was pulled from his peaceful observation by a rather crude curse from Hama; his body tensing for action should an enemy appear. He was relieved, and amused, to find the cause of Hama’s outburst was cold water streaming down his back, tunic sticking to him and the breeze chilling him – with Elfhelm seeming to be the culprit, the grin on his face wide. Faramir hadn’t noticed the men move to the riverside, removing their boots and rolling up their breeches and shirtsleeves to wade through the shallows in an attempt to catch fish.  
  
Elfhelm bellowed, to which Hama growled out a string of cusses and sent a large wave of water at him, knocking him down into the water beside Éomer; Elfhelm resurfaced wet and angry, and turned his anger towards a mocking Éomer. In an instant, Elfhelm had swept Éomer’s legs out from under him, submerging him in the river completely.  
  
  
Éomer gasped for air when he came up, listening to the peals of his sisters laughter, and Hama and Elfhelm’s infuriating chortling. His eyes eventually settled on Faramir, who had a small smile on his face, so sweet it took his breath away.  
  
  
Faramir couldn’t supress the few chuckled that escaped his mouth upon seeing the drowned prince, whom was now looking intently at him; the moment didn’t last long, as the three men soon declared war on each other, the fish long gone and forgotten.  
“Come Faramir, let’s take out leave before we become casualties or water warfare.” She laughed, pulling Faramir up and over to their mounts; he was surprised but pleased to find she’d regained most of her strength, her recovery progressing pleasingly.   
Once they’d settled themselves in their respective saddles they headed off down river into the tree line.  
  
  
  
Éomer was soaked to the bone, his clothes dripping as he set himself down on the riverbank, leaving Hama and Elfhelm to their ceaseless battle.  
He looked around for the other two, who had not yet returned from their hasty retreat.  
He lie on the bank, drying in the dying sun when out of the corner of his eye he was Firefoot whip his head up in alarm; Éomer was on his feet in an instant, eyes focused on the approaching rider. He was simultaneously relieved and anxious when he saw it was Éowyn, clearly distressed.  
He ran to her and was assessing her for any wounds before she’d even dismounted.  
“What is it? Orcs? Dundenlings?” He paused, coming to a sudden realization.  
  
“Where is Faramir?” he asked.  
  
Éowyn’s sharking hand pointed back in the direction she came, unable to form any words. Without a moment’s hesitation, Éomer swung himself up onto Firefoot and took off into the forest, Hama and Elfhelm only now just reaching the shaking princess, clothes sodden with water and mud.  
Éomer only caught his sisters soft voice before galloping away;  
“Something frightened the horses, Luthien reared and took off, dragging Faramir along with her…”  
  
  
  
Faramir groaned when he came to, his head searing hot with pain, his back ached and his leg felt numb.  
He tried to lift his head to ascertain his injuries, but the world merely stubbornly spun unnaturally around him and thus he had no idea if he were in and immediate danger; of either bleeding to death or being eaten alive. He was certain he was bleeding, he could smell it in the air and taste the rich metallic tang on his tongue. He only hoped nothing else would catch his scent.  
  
His mind struggled to piece together what happened, a blur off images in his head.  
Luthien, who was nowhere to be seen, had been spooked by something in the forest. Faramir had thought he would be able to control her, offering her soothing words and gentle nudges, but the horse reared back. Although being a capable rider, he was no match for a horse of the Mark, and he supposed only the Rohirrim had such high regard and trust with their steeds.  
  
He remembered the pain in his back and head would most likely from the impact of being thrown, however the sharp sting coming from his ankle reminded him that he was dragged along the forest floor for some time.  
“This is just my luck.” He wheezed to himself, shuddering in the cold. He hoped someone would find him soon, as his Gondorian upbringing would be the end of him in the bitter cold wild lands of Rohan.  
  
And Éowyn, he remembers hearing her chase after him, crying out until he could hear her no more.  
Even in his moment of woe, Faramir sincerely hoped Luthien was safe and wouldn’t be blamed in any way for his injuries, or his possible impending death.  
At this Faramir laughed. “Surely I have lost my mind, to laugh at such a time!” he gasped, with rasping laughter.  
So Faramir lie there, waiting for the spinning to cease long enough so he sit himself up; though he felt awfully faint and didn’t make it halfway up.  
He found his eyes grew heavy and closed them for only a moment, before being so rudely disturbed.  
“Faramir?” The voice questioned, soft and timid.  
  
After what seemed like an eternal struggle, Faramir cracked one eye open, the light almost blinding.  
Whoever it was exhaled sharply, then promptly growled;  
“You foolish man, you scared all sense from me – I thought you were dead! Do not close your eyes again.” Faramir opened his other eye and after some adjustment he saw Éomer hovering above him, golden hair dangling down to caress Faramir’s cheeks.   
If he had enough blood left, Faramir was sure he’d be red faced at this.  
“Éomer?” he asked dumbly, crying out at the sharp pain in his head.  
  
“Aye, now hold still, you’ve cuts all over you, a rather nasty one above your left brow.” Faramir was now aware of all the little pinpricks of pain throughout his body, along with warm fingertips on his face. Warm; Faramir’s teeth chattered.  
  
“I’m cold.” He stated the plainly obvious.  
  
“You could be in shock, and the weather has also turned. I imagine being Gondorian wouldn’t help.” He muttered. Faramir didn’t take offence, surprisingly enough.  
  
“We need to get you out of here, else you might die if we don’t warm you up.”  
  
“How lovely.” Faramir murmured ironically.   
  
Éomer’s hands left his face, having roughly cleaned and bandaged the worst of his wounds as best as he could, using strips of his shirt. At any other time Faramir would have been overjoyed at their closeness, but he was too focused on the spots dancing across his vision, groaning in pain. Éomer quickly wrapped and secured Faramir’s ankle and immobilized his leg with a sturdy stick and more shirt, telling him it wasn’t a bad sprain.  
“Come, we must get you up.” Éomer whistled for his horse, instructing the grey horse to kneel, as Éomer was basically hoisting up dead weight.  
With some effort and maneuvering, he managed to get Faramir onto the horse, both legs to one side to avoid further injury. Éomer then pulled himself up behind him, securing Faramir against his chest – _for safety, and warmth_ , he told himself. He tilted Faramir’s head back to see if his eyes were still open; grey eyes settled on his with an unbearable gaze. Éomer had to look away.  
  
He gently nudged Firefoot’s sides and set off on a slow place back through the trees.  
  
  
  
A short time later Faramir started to groan, weakly pushing himself away from Éomer. “Let me down, I think I may be sick.” He said in alarm.  
Éomer barely managed to catch Faramir as he started to slide himself off the saddle; grabbing the other man by the waist he helped him off the horse. Éomer stood next to him while Faramir was hunched over on the ground, pale faced and clammy.  
“Give me a moment,” Faramir gasped.  
Éomer turned his eyes east, where low grey clouds hung in the distance, and with them they would bring rain; Éomer waited patiently while Faramir gathered himself, Firefoot content to graze.  
  
When Éomer heard the sound of hooves thundering, he thought perhaps the other’s had found them; but what he saw he almost couldn’t believe.  
“Mearas.” He said, awestruck.  
Not too far from where they were, some Mearas ran free.  
“What?” Faramir asked.  
“The Mearas, magnificent wild horses of the Riddermark; only the Kings of the Riddermark and their sons have the privilege to ride them.” There were only a few, their tails and manes dancing in the wind.   
“Mearas? Like Shadowfax? Gandalf told me of them and his time with the horse King. I want to see them.” Faramir only managed to get halfway up before he legs began to shake; Éomer went to assist him. He hauled Faramir up against him, angling him to face the wild horses, which were now moving across the grasslands and further into the wild.  
“They’re beautiful.” Faramir murmured.   
Faramir, eager to get a closer look, stepped out of the safety of Éomer’s arms, immediately stumbling and heading straight for the ground.  
Éomer’s quick reflexes had him gripping onto Faramir’s arm, only he underestimated Faramir’s superior falling capabilities and was pulled down with him; Éomer barely managed to twist his body around enough to catch the brunt of the fall, lest Faramir do more damage to himself; leaving Faramir on top.  
When Faramir hadn’t made a noise, Éomer was worried he’d passed out again. He lifted his head to look at the other man, whose head rested on his chest, eyes wide and watching the last of the horses. Faramir had his full weight on Éomer, squeezing the air out of him; gently rolled them over, positioning himself above Faramir; his wide eyes now trained on him.  
  
“Why did you do that?” Faramir asked.  
  
“You were too heavy.” He answered.  
  
Faramir’s brow furrowed; “Are you calling me fat?” he accused.  
  
Éomer snorted. “No, Faramir.” He smiled down at Faramir’s cross face; for a moment he thought Faramir had stopped breathing, however he can feel Faramir’s warm breath against his lips. Their close proximity clouded Éomer’s mind, heat spread through his body, to his fingers and toes; coiling low in his abdomen. He lowered himself slightly down on top of Faramir.   
  
“You are warm.” Faramir observed, voice faint.  
  
Éomer was losing himself in those eyes.  
  
“Yes Faramir.” Éomer said, face lowering to his.   
  
“Faramir.” He murmured, lips brushing his.  
  
For a few moments they remained, simply sharing each others air. Éomer couldn’t resist when Faramir made a small noise in the back of his throat, lips sealing across Faramir’s.   
Faramir was almost too startled to respond, his body thankfully taking over.   
Éomer was urged on when Faramir’s lips moved, breath huffing and tongue poking out to take a swipe at Éomer’s lower lip.  
 Éomer grunted, bringing his hand up to cup Faramir’s chin, pulling it open to cover his mouth once more; his tongue delving into Faramir’s mouth.   
Their tongues slid together, Éomer pressed his body down onto Faramir’s, hot and heavy.   
Faramir moaned, heart racing when he felt Éomer’s desire press against him; he tangled his fingers in Éomer’s hair and tugged him closer, though in his weakened state it didn’t have much effect other than arousing Éomer further.   
  
Faramir couldn’t believe how soft his hair was, running it through his fingers, scraping his nails along scalp, earning a broken moan from Éomer. Their lips moved together sloppily, spit slick and swollen, with Faramir growing more desperate; his groin gyrating against Éomer’s.   
Éomer’s other hand gripped Faramir’s hip, and pushed him away from his aching groin; his other hand caressing Faramir’s face. Éomer pulled back slightly, their mouths disconnecting with a wet noise. Faramir’s pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen; he licked his lips once or twice, inciting a noise from Éomer.  
“You shall be the end of me.” Éomer breathed, unsure if Faramir head him, as he seemed busy engaging in caressing Éomer’s jaw, fingers admiring his beard. Éomer’s hand moved up to Faramir’s head, giving himself access to suck a bruise into his neck; Faramir tried not to voice his pain, knowing that it would shatter the moment, but when Éomer tugged on his hair he couldn’t keep quiet.  
  
‘Ow.” He yelped out in pain, his head throbbing. His breathing was shallow, his energy almost completely depleted from both pain and desire, he barely acknowledged Éomer’s alarmed voice calling his name. He felt himself being lifted, his head protesting  greatly, black spots dancing across his vision.   
In the last moments of consciousness, Faramir could have sworn he heard his mother’s sweet voice saying she loved him.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Faramir spent the next four days recovering, the worst of his injuries being the knock to his pride. Despite the ugly wound on his head, he still remembered the events of that day; like a play, re-enacting itself in his head every hour. In the privacy of his room, whenever he was conscious, he found himself with his fingers at his lips, as if in disbelief.   
He’d been attended to by the royal physician, whom said he’d heal just fine – though he diagnosed Faramir with shock, apparently caused by the injury. Faramir wasn’t about to tell the fine doctor what the real cause was. He drank his tea and ate his foot, slept when needed and took his medicine; all while Éowyn fussed over him. He knew she felt as though she were the cause of his misfortune, despite his constant insistence and protesting that it was not the case. She was there every time she woke, or somewhere nearby, to keep him company and updated on the goings on in Edoras – in between apologies of course; after a while he began to ignore her.  
Éowyn didn’t let on if she knew of the events that occurred that day, and she hardly brought up her brother in conversation, which he was thankful for.   
He made sure cover up the bruises on his neck from Éowyn, blushing when he saw them in his reflection.  
  
  
On his last bed ridden evening, Éowyn sat beside him, having taken up embroidering after their dinner. He watched her in the dim firelight, brow furrowed.   
Before he could ask her what was on her mind, she spoke;   
“It is Éomer’s birthday tomorrow.” She said; Faramir had no response.   
“Whilst you’ve been recovering, the birthday festivities were prepared,” she stopped her work to look at him.  
“I hope you’ll be well enough to join us.” She smiled, Faramir nodded.  
“I would hate for you to miss out, people from all over are coming; even Gandalf wrote to say he would attend,” at this Faramir perked up, his affection for the wizard may have just won him over. “bringing those infamous fireworks of his.”  
  
He felt that he would be most comfortable in the presence of his wizard friend.   
“Who else?” he asked.   
  
Éowyn rattled off names of people, some he knew and most others he didn’t; pleased to hear Merry and Pippin were to come.  
“Your cousins will also be here; surely they will be excited to reunite with you.” She said.  
“My cousins; all of them?” He asked.  
She shook her head. “No not all, just your uncle, Amrothos and Lothiriel, to arrive early tomorrow.”  
Faramir hadn’t often spoken to his uncle, nor many of his other cousins save for Amrothos, whom he found a pleasant young man of good character. His father rarely let him see his cousins, always keeping him inside the city less he disgrace himself; and as much as he knew his father would be rid of him, he’d never allow Faramir to live with his mother’s relatives; all in a bid to drown Faramir in his misery, never allowing him to be happy. Punishment for his mother’s death, he supposed.  
  
His mind turned to his youngest cousin, Lothiriel. She was youthful and a great beauty, a quiet but bold young woman, or so he had been told.  
He knew there was only one reason why Lothiriel would be coming; Faramir’s heart sank to his stomach, heavy and cold.  
Éowyn noticed the change in his expression, not knowing the reason why.  
  
“Are you well? You’ve not taken a turn have you?” she pressed a cool hand to his head. He waved her away.  
  
“I’ll be fine, just some early rest for tomorrow, seeing as I’ll need all my energy.” He explained.  
  
Éowyn didn’t look entirely convinced, however she bid him goodnight and left him with his thoughts.  
  
  
  
Tonight, he was too exhausted to let his mind keep him awake, and fell into a black sleep.


End file.
